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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26053669">don't let me ruin me, i may need a chaperone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclectictsunami/pseuds/eclectictsunami'>eclectictsunami</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the work of a young virtuoso [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dexter (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(Dexter is 32 and Jeremy is 19), Age Difference, But not as unhealthy as you might think, Established Relationship, Love Languages, M/M, References to Sex Work, Serial killers in love are something that can actually be so personal, Unhealthy Relationships, rare pairs, references to murder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:26:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,470</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26053669</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclectictsunami/pseuds/eclectictsunami</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dexter finds him in Flamingo Park. An appropriate location, he supposes, given it was the place where he once tracked Jeremy with an eye to kill him. If he were the sort of person to appreciate irony, he might be doing so now.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jeremy Downs/Dexter Morgan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the work of a young virtuoso [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891312</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>don't let me ruin me, i may need a chaperone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/xJuniperx/gifts">xJuniperx</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For Jackie, without whom this would not exist. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You essentially deserve a co-author credit.</p><p>Title from "Daredevil" by Fiona Apple.</p><p>Look, they're serial killers in love. That's not the focus of the fic, but...they're serial killers in love. If that's not what you want you are not in the right place.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dexter finds him in Flamingo Park. An appropriate location, he supposes, given it was the place where he once tracked Jeremy with an eye to kill him. If he were the sort of person to appreciate irony, he might be doing so now.</p><p>It’s sometime after 3 a.m., and Dexter’s eyes are blurring from driving around the city for the past several hours. It’s not as though he’s unused to late nights in his line of work - if anything it feels more comfortable and familiar than the daylight, but it’s been a long fucking day and he’s exhausted. He’s not even especially annoyed anymore, just tired and ready to sack out in his own bed - a bed that he’s likely going to have to share tonight, of all things. Before leaving he’d taken a long look on his formerly neat apartment, that used to have everything in its place, now covered with Jeremy’s shit - how could a formerly homeless, recently paroled kid accumulate <em>so much crap,</em> it truly defies all explanation - and sighed with resignation. He can’t believe he’s actually doing this, chasing someone who doesn’t want to be found.</p><p>He has to, though. He really doesn’t think Jeremy is stupid enough to go to the police and make any ill-advised confessions, but he’s impulsive and spiteful when he’s angry, and he’d been spitting mad when he took off. Their fights are always nasty and this one was no different; Jeremy had been so fucking stupid and reckless, thinking he was prepared for a kill on his own without Dexter’s help. There was no way he was ready, Dexter hadn’t even begun to finish training him, and he doubtless left enough evidence behind to implicate them both. He’s always so hotheaded, it’s what got him caught before and would get him caught again, he’d been selfish and stupid and was going to take Dexter down with him, after everything he’d done for him. Dexter had shouted all this at him and Jeremy had shouted back, face going a truly unsightly shade of red, and stormed out the door like he’d done a thousand times before, but this had felt like a breaking point. This had only been confirmed when Jeremy had completely vanished, for far longer than he ever had before, making himself damn near impossible to find for someone who didn’t make it his business to hunt and trace people like him. Dexter had done it before, and he could do it again, even if his endgame was different this time.</p><p>Jeremy goes with him without complaint when Dexter finds him, which is something of a surprise but also a tremendous relief after the night he’s had. He’d half expected Jeremy to fight him, shove him away or at the very least spew some some insults at top volume; he’s done it before. He’s filthy; shirtless and barefoot for reasons Dexter doesn’t really care to contemplate, but he’s calm enough. He gathers him into the car, wincing a little at the sight of his bare feet on the interior, and inspects him. There's no blood on him as far as he can tell, his own or anyone else's. He doesn’t appear to be hurt beyond a few scratches on his face and feet, and he doesn’t look to be high, either; he’s walking a little gingerly, but steadily, and his pupils aren’t dilated. Jeremy’s not a regular drug user - Dexter wouldn’t have allowed him in his home, let alone his bed, if that was the case - but he truly can never guess what kind of dumb bullshit he’s going to get caught up in.</p><p>They don’t talk much on the drive back, just enough for Dexter to confirm that Jeremy’s got his phone on him - the phone that he <em>turned off and refused to answer</em> - and to wordlessly offer some of the half-drunk, long-grown-cold coffee Dexter purchased from a gas station hours before. He doesn’t ask for any explanations, and Jeremy doesn’t offer any, just sits with his shoulders tight and curled, head dipped down and hands limp in his lap. It’s a shorter drive than it would be during the day - very little Miami traffic at this time of night, thank God for small favors, since Jeremy seemed bound and determined to get as far away from their place as possible.</p><p>He drives up to the parking lot outside his building and they climb the stairs, Jeremy lagging behind. Dexter almost turns around to make sure he’s following and hasn’t taken off again, but he can hear his heavy footsteps and anyway he seems to have worn himself out. He heaves a sigh of relief when he turns the key and walks in, Jeremy behind him. Even this late at night the city is sticky-hot, and the cold sterility of his apartment is a relief, even with Jeremy lurking back like a sullen shadow.</p><p>He doesn’t want another fight, really he doesn’t, he’s lucky his neighbors didn’t call the police last time, but the way Jeremy’s standing there, staring at his feet, wounded and defensive, looking ready to shout or cry or bolt again - he clenches his hands into fists and takes a deep breath and turns around, unable to look at him. If Jeremy picks a fight now, after Dexter’s spent the last twelve hours searching for him, he’s going to throw him out and let the consequences be damned. Prison’s starting to to look like a more attractive option. At least there he’d have his own bed.</p><p>“Where the <em>fuck</em> were you,” he says, and even he’s a little surprised at the way the words come out, almost a growl, through gritted teeth that makes his jaw ache. “Do you have any idea how long I looked for you, the shit I’d have to catch if you didn’t turn up, if you went to the <em>police - “</em> He lets out a tense, short breath through his nose. “Do you have any idea of the danger you put us both in today? I can’t just snap my fucking fingers and get you out of everything, I can’t - have you around here if you’re going to be this reckless. I chase you all around town and you’re a fucking mess, I should have just left you there - “ He sighs. Usually Jeremy would be defending himself by now, finding a way to throw Dexter’s words back in his face, but he’s silent.</p><p>When he turns back around to face him, Jeremy’s still standing there, eyes downcast. He’s holding something crumpled in his fist, hand trembling. Dexter watches at he unclenches, lets it fall to the floor. A $50 bill.</p><p>“I let some guy in the park give me fifty dollars to suck his dick,” Jeremy mumbles, so low that Dexter almost doesn’t hear him.</p><p>Dexter shuts his eyes. Another man, a normal man, might be jealous, or hurt, or angry, that his - lover? Partner in crime? Protege? Are any of those what Jeremy is? - had run out and fucked around on him, for money he didn’t even need while Dexter let him live here rent-free, but he isn’t. It just feels like a dull thud against his chest, leaving him more tired than even before. Feels exasperation, mostly, and something like pity, which he knows Jeremy couldn’t bear, would be a thousand times worse to him than anger.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Jeremy sobs. He’s crying now, wet, messy, snorting sobs, and when Dexter opens his eyes again he sees that his face is wet with fresh tears. His nose is running and there’s going to be snot pouring down his face at any moment. “It was so stupid, I’m so stupid and you were right about everything, I don’t even know why I did it, he was <em>gross</em> and <em>old,</em> I didn’t even want to but I did it anyway - “</p><p>“Did you use a condom?” Dexter sighs. The only really relevant question here.</p><p>Jeremy nods, gulping back another sob. Some measure of progress, then; he’d rarely insisted on it before Dexter met him. “Yeah. I’d never - I’d <em>never</em> give you anything, I <em>promise,</em> I’d <em>never</em>, if you even wanted, if you want to, I can - “ His face changes, and Dexter can sense that he’s about to change tactics; he surges closer, presses his mouth to Dexter’s neck, his trembling fingers going to his belt, groping and pawing at his thighs -</p><p><em>“Stop,”</em> Dexter snaps, swatting his hands away. “I’m not in the mood, I’ve been up all night looking for you and your telling me about how you just had another guy’s dick in your mouth isn’t helping.”</p><p>(Harsher than he expected; maybe there’s a touch of jealousy after all. Interesting.)</p><p>He knows it was the wrong thing to say as soon as he says it; Jeremy’s face crumples in truly spectacular fashion, looking like he’s gearing up for some kind of wail, the waves of misery radiating off him so strong that even Dexter can feel them. He does the only thing he knows to do; hauls Jeremy’s body close to his and wraps his arms around him, using all his considerable strength to squeeze him to his chest.</p><p>It was the right answer. Jeremy quiets immediately, goes soft and and pliant in his arms, sobs trailing to a soft whimper. Nestles his face into Dexter’s neck; there’s a comfortable familiarity to it, the animal smell of him, his bare skin beneath his hands. He doesn’t need to think of something to say, doesn’t need to say anything at all, just needs to stand here and feel the tension drain out of him. On impulse, he kisses the top of Jeremy’s head; Jeremy whimpers and sighs, nuzzles at his neck like a cat, so he does it again.</p><p>“I love you,” Jeremy mumbles into his neck.</p><p>He says this sometimes when he thinks he’s in trouble; when he’s messed up somehow and Dexter is mad at him. A manipulation, or a survival tactic. Dexter doesn’t mind. Wouldn’t even mind, particularly, if it weren’t true, but it is. Despite what they’d both thought once, Jeremy isn’t truly a psychopath. He’s vicious and sadistic and fully capable of killing with no remorse, but he does have feelings. Sometimes he has them in truly unbearable quantities.</p><p>(Jeremy doesn’t seem to mind that he never says it back. Not quite a truth, not quite a lie, better avoided entirely.)</p><p>“I love you,” Jeremy says again. He’s squeezing fistfuls of Dexter’s T-shirt, clinging, and Dexter’s shoulder is wet where he’s still crying. “Please. Please don’t make me go.”</p><p>He could, Dexter supposes. The truth is the possibility hadn’t really occurred to him until now, telling him to leave for good. It would be understandable, even justified. The only sane thing to do, really, under the circumstances, but…</p><p>“Go take a shower,” Dexter says. “I’m going to get ready for bed.”</p><p>Jeremy sniffles and nods, lets his hands slowly unfurl from Dexter’s shirt, lets himself be lightly pushed away. Abruptly, surprising himself - Jeremy needs to hear it, and maybe he needs to say it - Dexter grips his face hard between his hands, pushing the hair away from his face and forcing his gaze up to him.</p><p>“You’re mine,” he says, low and so fierce it startles him. He shakes him, not quite hard enough to make his teeth rattle but not far off. “Understand? You’re <em>mine.”</em></p><p>Jeremy’s face has gone blank, mouth slack, wet eyes enormous. He nods, slowly, as much as Dexter’s grip will let him. He looks like he’s in a trance. He understands, Dexter knows. Right now he’d carve out his own heart if Dexter asked him to.</p><p>(He’d never ask, of course. But it…satisfies something in him to know it.)</p><p>Dexter kisses him once on the mouth, close-mouthed and bruising, too brief for Jeremy to kiss back, and pushes him back again.</p><p>“Go,” he says. Jeremy goes.</p><p>The kitchen clock says it’s just past 4 a.m. He might get three hours’ sleep, if he’s lucky. He sighs, for what feels like the thousandth time that night, and half-stumbles into his bedroom, rubbing his temples in a futile attempt to fight off a headache. He doesn’t really remember when he last ate, but it doesn’t really matter; he’s too tired and hunger has already come and gone.</p><p>He takes a moment to piss and brush his teeth while Jeremy’s in the shower - he doesn’t usually like sharing the bathroom, but needs must - and rolls his eyes when he realizes the kid is actually <em>jerking off,</em> and not even doing a very good job of hiding it. He tries to pick up a little around the corner of the bedroom that’s Jeremy’s - he has never bothered to fully unpack his shit, no matter how many times Dexter’s told him to; he finally gives up and just kicks most of it to the corner.</p><p>He’s just started to doze off, still half on top of the covers, when Jeremy comes in from the shower. His wet hair is plastered to his forehead. He looks better now that he’s clean, not so disheveled-bordering-on-feral, and naked, it’s clear that Dexter was right before when he guessed he wasn’t hurt.</p><p>He sits hesitantly on the side of the bed as though he doesn’t sleep there every night; waits, seemingly, to be invited. Dexter finally takes pity on him and waves him over, eyes still closed, feels the bed dip where he climbs in.</p><p>He lies there, stiff, as Dexter turns out the light. Ordinarily they sleep on their opposite sides of the bed, touching only incidentally or if Jeremy wakes him up in the middle of the night to initiate sex, but he’s going to be more disruptive lying there stiff as a board, so Dexter sighs and opens his arms, pulls Jeremy in to curl against his chest. He comes immediately, eagerly, flops his head onto Dexter’s chest a little too hard, wriggles too close too fast, all elbows and knees. When he settles, though, it’s comfortable enough; the warmth of him, the weight of his head resting on his chest. There’s something to be said for this, after all, to not sleeping alone, having someone close. Humans are social animals, however hard they might try to deny it. Apparently he can find a mate after all.</p><p>“Dexter,” comes the muffled voice at his chest, and he just barely restrains the urge to groan. Is he really, truly not going to get any sleep tonight? “I want to know what I missed at the crime scene. What evidence did I leave behind? Was there something I forgot to do with the body?” His voice is sleepy with a little bit of excitement. Asking for a bedtime story.</p><p><em>Yes, well,</em> Dexter thinks, <em>this must be why.</em></p>
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